Behind the Scenes
by McMahonHelmsleyEraFan
Summary: A collection of one-shots detailing what goes on with Triple H and Stephanie, when the cameras aren't rolling. Paul/Steph and Hunter/Steph. Fluff, smut and everything in between!
1. Disappointment

Okay guys! So here's a one-shot I've been working on ever since the scene happened. Working on as in: I got the idea, wrote a couple of paragraphs, set it aside and only just now finished it...at freaking 4am and I gotta be up for work at 6am. LOL.

This is actually the first chapter of what will become a collection of what went on before/during/after certain on-screen scenes with Triple H, Stephanie, or both. I should note here that the continuity won't be consistent and neither will kayfabe. In one installment, it may be Hunter/Steph (meaning I'll detail an on screen scene and then write about what THOSE characters experienced or whatever) and in the next it may be Paul/Steph (meaning a Hunter and/or Steph scene happened, but I'll write about what real Paul/Steph experienced..kind of like "Someday Soon"...which would have been the first of this series if I'd had the idea before I wrote that as a stand-alone one shot LOL).

This one's for Britt and Kristen...who are always so encouraging (pestering, particularly when they know smut is going to be involved). LOL. Enjoy, all, and let me know what you think!

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"_You're going to disappoint your wife. But you're probably used to that anyway."_

In her husband's locker room, Stephanie shook her head as the words played through her mind again. Paul was going to be pissed and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it at this point. In general, the WWE was moving towards having promos be less scripted. But even before it was made the official standard for all on-screen talent, people like CM Punk and Paul Heyman were basically given creative free reign over what they would say on television.

She just plain didn't _get _Heyman. Her husband, Paul, had been in the business for nearly two decades. He understood how to behave and look as if he was pissed. It was never necessary for someone to get personal enough to actually make him pissed, for him to get that emotion across to the fans.

But Heyman? He pissed her husband off with constant regularity. Both on and off screen. In the ring and backstage. It was like he fed off of the dislike simply because he knew that her husband wouldn't actually touch him. He was a high-ranking executive, not to mention the fact that he'd married and made three children with the owner's daughter. Those facts spared Heyman from a real-life ass beating. But those same facts were a fraction of why Heyman sought to anger her husband in the first place.

Her Paul was usually a calm, rational kind of guy. He also had a broad sense of humor and was a huge dork and a goofball, especially when it came to family. But if someone actually talked shit about anything having to do with his family? Total hothead. There wasn't much of anything that anyone could say about their daughters – they were somewhat shielded from this crazy business of theirs, but slowly being introduced to it. But Stephanie was highly visible and had a…colorful history during her time here, topped off by colorful rumors that had no supporting evidence whatsoever.

Blowing out a heavy breath, Stephanie glanced at the clock. Paul would be back any second now; his promo ended at least five minutes ago at this point. And she still hadn't come up with a damn thing to say to calm him down about Heyman's comment.

Because even she'd noticed – and initially ignored it – but Heyman's goading had turned…well, kind of sexual in nature. Even _thinking _the words "Heyman" and "sexual" in the same sentence was enough to make her want to puke. But it was true. Paul had read between the lines, claiming that Heyman possibly had some kind of sick crush on her. She'd waved that off, citing the man's comments as nothing more than playing up his villainous character. Triple H's character was well known for defending the honor of his family – especially his wife. So it made sense that the man had gone in that direction. Paul had begrudgingly let it go, though he wasn't convinced of anything that she'd said.

Then he'd started making not-so-subtle tweets about her. She could recall each one from memory.

_The passion WWE's Steph McMahon exudes while tweeting to me is demonstrative of a very frustrated woman. Hmmmmm…_She'd been in a meeting when that one came through. She hadn't seen it immediately, but her ever-so-loving husband texted her, telling her to "check twitter as soon as fucking possible." To convey how serious and upset he was, he accompanied the text with an angry looking emoticon.

The next tweet was possibly worse than the first...Yes,_ powerful women like to be on top. _That for damn sure wasn't scripted in any way, shape or form. It had been Heyman's response to a picture that a fan tweeted of her kicking his ass.

And now he'd gone and insinuated that her husband was a disappointment in the bedroom. God help her in trying to talk him out of going to Vince – who would do absolutely nothing about it. In fact, talent banter and feud promotion is part of why he made everyone get a twitter. But the worst case scenario would be Paul forgetting himself, going straight to the source and bloodying it.

She stood up from the couch because she heard his footsteps before he even reached the door.

"Son of a bitching bastard," She heard Paul mutter as he shoved the door open. His hazel eyes widened a little bit and his lips parted. "Oh," he commented simply.

"I got done a little early, figured I'd wait for you in here," Stephanie said with a shrug, to explain her presence in his locker room.

Paul closed the door behind him then turned to face her again. "Gotcha. Did you _see _what happened out there just now? What that platypus just said to me on live television?"

Visibly, she winced a little bit. If she said she hadn't seen anything, would it help him calm down? She appraised his features and decided: likely not. But maybe being the epitome of cool and calm would help. "Yeah, I saw."

Paul nodded and narrowed his eyes at her. Almost as if she'd been the one in the wrong. "And what did you think about it?"

"I thought he was way over the line, honestly. But you know my Dad, he loves extreme shit if it gets the crowd into it."

"This is bullshit, Steph!" He exclaimed, pointing his finger at the ground. "We both know he's doing this shit on purpose and we're supposed to just sit back and take it? I have to be all tame and diplomatic even though my character is technically bad-ass, just because I'm an exec. It's horse shit."

Stephanie crossed the distance between them. "Baby, calm down," she halfway pleaded, placing her hands on his shoulders. "This angle will be over soon enough and then we won't have to deal with him much anymore."

Paul snorted. "Soon, my ass! Your Dad has me booked against Brock all the way up until Extreme Rules."

"You're a part-timer. Trust me, you won't have to interact with him that often. Please just try to calm down. Heyman is a little shit and everyone around here and in the entire universe knows it. Just…be the bigger man. Okay?"

Bigger man. Bigger...Huh. Something about her comment sparked feelings of an entirely different nature. It must have been evident by his facial expression, because Stephanie tilted her head and looked at him curiously. "What?" She asked, eyeing him with evident suspicion.

"Babe," he said to her slowly.

Oh no. Stephanie swallowed hard. She recognized that look as well as the slight drop in his tone of voice. His hands slipped past her black leather coat and came to rest on her hips as he took a step closer to her. Already, her skin burned underneath the location of his hands and he hadn't even done anything. Not yet, at least. "Y-yes?" She somewhat stammered out, watching as his head lowered towards her.

"Do I disappoint you?" He whispered against her ear thickly.

"No. You satisfy me in every way imaginable," she said seriously.

"Hmm," he muttered. "I'm not sure I'm convinced. I think I need some reassurance." Paul pressed soft kisses from the top of her ear down to the lobe. His tongue shot out briefly and lazily trailed down the side of her neck.

"I…h-how do you…I mean, how can I reassure you of that?"

Instead of responding verbally, Paul dropped his hands and moved away from her. Stephanie frowned at the interruption of their contact. She watched as he walked the few steps to the door. The lock slid into place, which only served to drive home to Stephanie what her husband's intentions were.

Not that she was complaining. She just…had a tendency to not be able to keep quiet. Like ever. Furthermore, earlier in the day she'd received a call from Trish Stratus herself, instructing her to get her ass on Twitter. She'd done so and a playful banter begun, culminating in her friend and former on-screen nemesis asking her to induct her into the Hall of Fame.

She was sure that word had spread that she was backstage tonight. And at some point she knew she'd be hit with a drive-by interview of some kind, even if it was unofficial. If the beginning of said interview was a chorus of moans and shouting her husband's name along with a string of profanity, she imagined that probably wasn't very good for business. Not in this PG era, anyway. If they'd been married in the beginning of the Attitude Era they could probably have sex on live television and the ratings would go up. Not that either of them would have participated in such a thing, but still.

Paul came to stand in front of her again, this time with a devious little smile on his lips. She hated him because she was utterly powerless to reject any his any of his advances, ever. Even if it meant only getting two or three hours of sleep or having to stay at work longer because he'd distracted her from her tasks. Damn him and every last one of his mesmerizing features. All of which she was sure to experience and enjoy in just a few moments' time.

Stephanie sort of watched in transfixed silence as he lifted his hands and basically pulled her jacket off, with minimal assistance from her. He tossed it onto the leather chaise to the side of them.

Paul then surprised her…by actually walking away and taking a seat on the couch. He looked pretty damn comfortable. Almost like he hadn't just been trying to seduce her thirty seconds ago. "So, you can start by coming over here with me."

He was answering her question on reassurance, she realized after a moment. Obliging him, she walked over until she was standing in front of him. He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively while patting his lap in an inviting manner.

Stephanie started laughing, but did as he asked. Once she was settled, with a leg resting on either side of him, his fingers danced a trail up her blouse, over her collarbone and eventually fastened into her hair. He pulled her forward until finally their mouths were pressed together. He wasted no time seeking entrance to her mouth, his tongue eagerly battling hers for dominance.

His free hand trailed up her legs – which were only covered by a simple, black skirt that stopped a little past midway down her thighs – slowly. Oh, how convenient it was that she'd chosen to ditch the idea of wearing a pantsuit, in favor of a blouse and skirt tonight. Her body jerked a little as his hand reached her inner thigh. His fingers lightly skimmed over the scrap of lace that covered her flesh. Aforementioned flesh was moist – he knew that because the wetness was already seeping through the material of her thong.

Poor thing. What kind of husband would he be if he didn't put her out of her misery and give her what she wanted? He pushed the thong aside and inserted one of his thick fingers into her slowly.

"Oh God," she sighed against his mouth, momentarily breaking their kiss.

Taking note of her exceedingly dark eyes and increased breathing rate, he tilted his head in curiosity as his fingers began to work their magic on her. "Does that feel good?" He asked after a minute, even though he knew what her answer was going to be.

Her lips parted ever so slightly as she prepared to respond. Paul crooked his finger in a "come hither" motion and almost laughed at Stephanie's reaction. She screwed her eyes shut and hissed.

He stopped his movements and withdrew his finger. There was silence for just a moment before he asked, "That wasn't…disappointing, was it?"

Stephanie's eyes snapped open at that derisive question. Sure, he was mocking Heyman. Hell, this entire encounter was set off by Paul wanting to prove that he wasn't in fact a disappointment. But hell, _she _wasn't the one who'd made the comment. So why was she being tortured half to death?

They were in an arena and she just _knew _that somebody would need one of them for something soon. If they got interrupted before they finished, she just may legitimately kill her charming, handsome, asshole of a husband.

"Paul?"

"Hmm?"

"We're kind of in public. Please in the name of all that is holy, get me off before I strangle someone. You're the closest to me so it'll probably be you."

Paul's forehead crinkled in confusion. "Is this some new kind of foreplay?"

"Do you want to die tonight?" She countered quickly.

"Not particularly, no."

Stephanie nodded. "Good, then how about we strip, fuck and get back to normal before we get busted? No pun intended there, by the way," she commented, standing up from his lap.

Paul watched her as she whipped her top off over her head. He was going to tell her that it probably wasn't necessary to remove the skirt or the underwear. Both could easily be pushed aside. But whatever. His wife was clearly running the show at this point. He stood up and pulled his t-shirt off. "You know, everyone thinks that _I'm _corrupting _you. _But look at the horrible things you say to me! This is emotional abuse!" He complained while fumbling with the belt of his jeans.

Stephanie laughed at him. "Aww," she gushed, swatting his hands away and taking over the task of undoing his jeans. Once she had the belt, button and zipper undone, she pushed the denim down his legs a bit. She shoved against his chest hard, smirking as he lost his balance from the shock and fell against the couch. "Well, just to round things off, how about I abuse you physically, too?"

Paul licked his bottom lip and drew it in, trying his hardest not to laugh. Ultimately he was failing and finally just gave up when Stephanie got on top of him again. God, he loved her. She was literally everything he could have ever asked for in a woman and then some.

A low groan passed his lips as she gripped his erect member, stroking it a couple times before teasing her own entrance with the tip. Paul placed his hands on her hips to help steady her as she finally, mercifully, began to slide down.

A bang on the door started the hell out of the both of them. "Stephanie, are you in here?" A male voice that they didn't immediately recognize, called to her.

Paul chose to ignore the intruder by lifting his hips until he was inside of her fully.

Because it felt amazing and she couldn't help her gut reaction, she moaned. And her husband started laughing.

"PAUL!" Stephanie hissed as sternly as she could, without raising her voice much.

"Yes?" He asked innocently.

"There's someone at the door and you just want to…what, have sex while they bang away at it?" She questioned, flailing an arm in the general direction of the door.

"Interesting choice of words, dear."

Stephanie slapped at his chest until he squirmed, trying to get away from her. "Shut up, you know what I meant!"

The banging at the door escalated in loudness. "STEPH, SERIOUSLY! You in here?"

"If we ignore him, he'll go away," Paul suggested.

"Maybe. But then I'm _really _gonna have to try to keep quiet."

"Don't set yourself up for failure, babe."

Stephanie screwed her face up playfully and slapped his chest again. "Seriously, what are we gonna do?"

"I don't know; it's not me they're after." With that, Paul shrugged, proving he was of absolutely no use in this scenario.

Outside the door, there was silence for a moment. And then whomever was keeping up all the noise finally began to beg. "STEPH, COME ON! I've searched all over this place and you're nowhere to be found. Nobody saw you leave the arena so I know you're in there. Your Dad will have my head! He told me to come get you. Please."

"Shit," she muttered out. Well, now she had no choice but to go. Not only had her father demanded her presence…but someone else would get crap for it if she didn't show up. She cared very little about her father's demands at the moment – hell she didn't even pay attention in his meetings, to be honest. But she didn't want to get some uninvolved party in trouble just because she couldn't keep her hands off of her husband.

She pushed herself up, ignoring Paul as he stretched out on the couch as if he hadn't a care in the world. As if his manhood wasn't literally sticking damn near straight up in the air because of her. But she couldn't think about that while she was trying to focus on putting her clothes back on.

Once she was dressed, Stephanie leaned down and pressed her lips against his quickly. "I'll only be a minute. Stay here and stay naked, please," she requested, earning a chuckle out of him.

There was more banging on the door as she approached it. She opened the door harshly, but made sure Paul wouldn't be spotted. "WHAT?" She asked, stepping outside of the room. "Are you trying to beat the damn door in?"

The younger man flushed an embarrassing shade of red. "I…errr…" the kid trailed off, pressing his earpiece into his ear harder. He nodded, as if the person on the other end could see him. "Interview. They're just around the corner waiting on an interview with you."

"Interview about what?" She asked skeptically. The timing was funny. And why send this flustered kid if people were so close to Paul's locker room, waiting on an interview?

An overwhelming sense of dread overcame her as she followed the kid. Self-consciously she smoothed out her skirt and blouse a dozen times. Her cheeks burned from a combination of surprise, embarrassment, shame and desire. But there was nothing she could do about that, so she may as well stop trying.

She reached the area, only to have a camera immediately shoved in her face. No greeting or anything. Kind of aggressive if you asked her. Much like she'd been with Paul…but that was playful and loving.

Against her own will, her lips began to twitch upwards. She could literally still feel Paul's body pressed up against hers. She held her lips together tightly and tried to force her lips to turn downwards. It felt awkward, since she was a generally smiley kind of person.

God, she hoped this fucking _ambush _of an interview wasn't about somebody hearing her in the locker room. Her body was craving release and her mind was simply torturing her with all of the potential ways that her husband could give her just that. She needed to get the hell out of here and get back to that locker room as soon as possible before she exploded. In frustration, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

"Stephanie, Trish Stratus just asked you on Twitter, to induct her into the Hall of Fame this Saturday."

Feeling her utter apprehension drain away, her lips curved up into a wide smile. She was safe. Yes!

"What are you feeling right now?" The interviewer continued, totally blind to the myriad of emotions that he'd just put her through.

"Uh…" she began. She was still left with the problem of her mind having gone totally blank. Of course she definitely knew that when Trish had asked her to induct her this weekend, she would eventually be asked for her thoughts. But with Paul ravaging her as soon as he came backstage from his altercation with Heyman and his beast, it made most coherent thoughts evade her. Like her brains just decided to flee the scene and let her heart and body completely take control. "I'm really…I'm really overwhelmed," she stated simply. "Um, that's what I wrote back to Trish in my tweet," she pointed out, pleased with the fact that she'd managed to recall what she'd said. "And uh I'm just…I'm honored, you know that Trish would want me to induct her into the Hall of Fame. She's one of the greatest divas of all time and um…and really I just…I'm almost speechless. I'm just truly honored to be able to do that," she finished with a decisive nod.

In the background, someone signaled for the cameras to cut. Instead of sticking around to exchange pleasantries like she normally would, she scurried off before anyone could stop her.

Making her way back to her husband's locker room, she didn't know whether to kick herself mentally or congratulate herself on _somewhat _playing it cool. Sure, she was normally a better speaker in public. She'd lost count of the number of press conferences and meetings she'd had to speak in. And she was always prepared and delivered her words perfectly. Somebody was bound to notice that she wasn't quite herself this time around. But she hoped that no one could figure out why exactly that was.

After all, being asked by your former "rival" to take part in one of the greatest nights of their life and career was no small matter. Stephanie certainly wasn't taking it lightly. She really was honored and overwhelmed by Trish's decision. Naturally, people were going to assume that was the sole reason why she was at a loss for words, fidgeting about and initially trying to suppress her massive grin. Thank God that the interview had been a very short one. Otherwise she may have said something that was crazy, yet truthful because of her panic.

She could see it now; rambling out a jumbled sentence that went something like, "HusbandSexDidn'tFinish YouPeopleInterrupted InDesperateNeedGodYes GottaGoOkayThanksBye."

Within no time, she was in front of Paul's locker room again. She didn't know what point or purpose it served, but she knocked before just going ahead and opening the door. She grinned, seeing Paul was literally in the same position that she'd left him in.

"What happened?" He asked.

Stephanie shrugged and stepped into the room, closing and locking the door behind her. "A quick interview about the Hall of Fame. I stuttered, stammered and blushed like an idiot the whole time and it's all your fault."

Paul laughed at her, but watched intently as she began removing her jacket. "How so?"

"I'm not really sure. All I know is that you're gonna make it up to me. Right?"

Paul winked at her. "I promise not to disappoint."


	2. Arrested

So this little piece is based off of the 8/31/00 Smackdown. I left out some of the beginning scenes, but put enough to recreate the onscreen moments and then let my imagination fill in the blanks. It's dialogue heavy at certain points (mostly during the transcription of what actually happened...particularly when the cops show up and there's like 6 people arguing/yelling at once LOL). Regardless, I hope you all enjoy this!

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"ARE YOU OKAY?" Kurt Angle asked frantically.

Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley's entire face frowned in total confusion. What exactly was his problem? Surely he didn't think that she was in imminent danger just from standing here making herself a coffee? Then again, this _was _Kurt. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"I heard you and Hunter got in a fight."

The realization began to dawn on her, but before she could say anything, Kurt continued his questions in flurry. "Did he hit you? Did that bastard hit you? I'll tell ya…" he warned thinly, with an outraged shake of his head.

The youngest McMahon's eyes widened and her mouth parted in shock. Quickly, she turned around and sat her coffee stirrer down on the counter. She took a step back, shifting the cup to the hand that was farthest from Kurt. With the way he was flailing his arms all around, he was likely to accidentally knock the damn thing all over her, otherwise. Spilling coffee on this outfit really would be the cherry on top of an already fantastic night. Yes, her thoughts were sarcastic.

"Kurt, listen. Hunter might be a lot of things, okay? But he _loves _me and Hunter would never lay a hand on me."

"Steph," Kurt said very seriously. He didn't buy a damn word coming out of her mouth. "Steph, you can tell me anything. Are you trying to protect him?" He asked, pointing a finger at her sternly. As if she was being some disobedient child.

Eyeing him stranglely – because what in the legitimate hell – Stephanie pled her case again. "Kurt…Kurt, no I'm not trying to protect him. Hunter and I had a fight," she stated for the record. She hoped that her honesty drove home to the overreacting Olympian that no abuse had occurred. Preferably before he did something insanely stupid, such as going after her husband. "You know, but we'll work things out. Okay?"

Because she saw the way his face tensed up in preparation to respond, she held out her hand peacefully. "If I need you, I'll let you know."

"All you have to do is ask, Steph. I'm here for you," he promised dutifully. "I'll always be here for you."

Nodding her head, she uttered a simple, "Thank you, Kurt."

"You're welcome," he said, reluctantly turning and walking away.

Stephanie watched him go, shaking her head the entire time. She wished that she could be flattered by the other man's desire to be her hero, but she wasn't. First of all…he was a little dense sometimes. There wasn't a single solitary mark on her, nor was there even a hair out of place on her head. Wouldn't she be a bit more disheveled if Hunter had seriously gone off the deep end?

Second of all, literally _every _time Hunter had physically harmed her it was as a direct result of her trying to get involved in a fight he was having with Kurt. She had no doubt that the incidents were complete accidents. If she hadn't been?

Well, that brought her to number three: she was Stephanie fucking McMahon. Wrestling royalty. Billion Dollar Princess. Brains, Beauty and Sometimes Bitch. Vince McMahon's only daughter. Heir to the World Wrestling Federation. Ergo, she was going to be in a very powerful position as it related to wrestler's careers.

If Hunter developed some mental screwiness from one too many chair shots to the head then yes, she could see how someone could entertain the idea that he would abuse her. But no such instability or disability had occurred. The guy simply had a nasty temper that caused him to yell and occasionally throw things in directions that weren't even hers. He always calmed down, apologized and tried to do better. To be fair, she certainly knew that she wasn't the easiest person to be in a relationship with. She was every bit as hotheaded as he was.

If proof was needed, her verbal altercation with Chyna just a short while prior was more than enough. She contemplated on whether that had been an act of bravery or insanity as she made her way back to the locker room. She was hoping that the time alone gave her husband some time to cool off. He was undeniably even sexier when he was angry. But when he was angry _with her_, she wasn't exactly able to reap the benefits.

Hunter appeared at the end of the hall that she was currently heading down. With what seemed like just a few strides of his long, muscular legs, he was in front of her.

He'd been busy, apparently. He'd changed out of his jean shorts and plain black t-shirt into track pants and a cut-off tee with his logo on it. His hair had been in a ponytail before, but it was down now. "I was looking for you," he admitted.

The anger in his tone and facial features was long gone. His brown eyes had gone back to their usual hazel color. His forehead and area around his mouth were no longer strained and tense. He looked...sweet, she decided. "Well…I'm here," she replied softly because she wasn't sure what else to say.

Hunter nodded at the obvious. "Can we talk?" He asked hopefully.

Stephanie nodded and placed her hand in his larger, outstretched one. They walked together, passing a few marked rooms before entering one that had no name on it. Hunter closed the door after them.

It appeared to be some sort of small, makeshift conference room, judging by the table and chairs occupying the space. Hunter pulled the chairs away from the table, arranging them so that they were facing each other. He waited for her to sit down, before doing so himself.

"You have to understand how I feel about this. I'm sorry," Hunter began. "I'm sorry about before. I lost my cool. I blew up, I exploded and that's wrong. I know I have to control that, okay? But you have to understand what this does to me," he requested, placing a hand on her thigh. "You mean the world to me. I love you more than anything in the world. And when Kurt Angle…" he trailed off, removing his hand in favor of clenching his fists, "sticks his nose in our business…I just wanna _choke _that little son of a…I wanna ring his neck and just…" he trailed off with a low growl.

Hunter stopped himself there, realizing he'd gone off on a tangent, fueled by visions of beating the living hell out of Kurt Angle. That…wasn't exactly his priority at the moment. Hell, the whole reason he wanted to bloody him was because the guy was putting the moves on his wife. A wife he wouldn't have for much longer if he didn't start channeling his frustrations better. He lifted his head so that he could gauge Stephanie's expression. Concerned. But mostly unmoved. He sighed. "See, I have to control that, okay? _That's _what I have to control. I'm sorry," he said with emphasis. "I can't lose my cool when I'm around you, I have to be in control. You're right, okay?" He said, placing his hand back on her thigh. "And I just want you to know everything behind this...I'm sorry about all of this. I will try my hardest to control that, to respect you…and if you're friends with Kurt Angle," he hesitated and looked away from her. "It's not okay but I'll try to control it, okay? But I'm sorry."

Stephanie shook her head for a moment. He wasn't the only one in the wrong and she knew that. "Know what? I'm sorry, too. I never meant to slap you," she said, reaching out to rub the cheek she'd struck. Hunter moved to stand up and she did the same. "I-I get out of control, too."

"Are we okay?" He murmured, opening his arms to her.

Stephanie nodded and wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling his lips against hers just a short second later.

For a moment, all was right in their marriage again. Then a knock on the door irritated them both. Hunter pulled back and turned towards the door, muttering, "If that's Kurt, I swear…"

Stephanie saw the identity of the intruder a mere fraction of a second before her husband did. In response, her eyes widened. Fucking cops? This could not be good. She sincerely hoped Kurt had nothing to do with this. There wouldn't be anything she could say to her husband to spare the other man an ass kicking, otherwise.

"Mr. Helmsley, we're here to talk to you about a complaint we received in reference to some spousal abuse. You need to come on downtown so we can discuss this downtown in the office."

Hunter was the first to ask, "What?"

"What's this all about?" Stephanie queried.

"We received a complaint of spousal abuse. You're gonna have to come downtown so we can investigate this further."

"Spousal abuse? I-" Stephanie asked, gesturing to herself.

"Spousal. Abuse?" Hunter repeated slowly, turning to his wife.

"I'm his – I'm his wife…"

"You sicced the _cops _on me?" He questioned intensely.

Stephanie directed her attention to her husband and was completely shocked. She dropped her arms to her sides limply. "Hunter! Of course I didn't-" she began and was cut off by the authorities.

"Mr. Helmsley, you need to come on downtown with us."

"I didn't do this!" She said loudly.

Taking a step closer, he spoke again. "You send the cops on-"

Before he knew what was happening, there was another cop in the room, standing at his side.

"Mr. Helmsley, you need to come on downtown with us. This is not a place to discuss this. Come on downtown and we'll work it out."

"I did NOT do this, Hunter! How could you think that I would have you arrested?" Stephanie queried with complete seriousness.

"Come on downtown with us and we'll get this worked out."

"This is ridiculous!" Hunter said with as much restraint as was possible, given the circumstances.

The next few seconds were a jumble of voices. Stephanie and Hunter trying to plead their case, law enforcement trying to separate the two of them, while commanding Hunter out of the room.

"He never hit me, Officer. He never-"

"This is my wife! She's telling-"

"Ma'am. Ma'am!"

"I'm his wife!" Stephanie tried to argue as Hunter was led from the room by another cop hovering near the doorway. Fuck, how many of these guys did they send to pick up one person nowadays? It seemed like a tremendous waste of taxpayer resources, especially considering her husband hadn't done anything wrong.

"Steph, I can't believe this!"

Stephanie maneuvered her head in between two officers to make sure her husband heard her loud and clear. "Hunter I didn't do this!"

Hunter slowed his pace and turned around to ask, "You guys are serious?"

"Yes, sir I'm serious," the ring leader of this fiasco responded in a no-nonsense tone of voice. "We'll go downtown and get all the details."

"Hunter I don't know what this is all about. I had nothing to do with this. How can you – I'm his wife, if I didn't make this complaint-"

"That's my wife right there telling you I didn't do anything!"

"If I didn't make this complaint then how can you arrest him?"

"How can you be arresting me?"

"You're not under arrest, we're gonna investigate."

"Officers? "Stephanie asked, "How can you…how can you-"

The officer in charge put his arm out to stop Stephanie from advancing forward. "You can come down later but you can't come with us right now. Okay? If you wanna come down that's fine but you cannot come with us right now."

"Well what do you mean she can't come?" Hunter asked. He was completely outraged. This thing was a fucking mess and Stephanie was the only person who could probably put it right. She _needed _to come.

"You can come but not with us."

"What do you mean I can't come?" Stephanie asked in something very similar to a squeak.

"Of course she can come; she can tell you the whole story!" Hunter reasoned.

"Mrs. Helmsley, you can come but you can't ride with us."

"I'm his wife!"

"I'm sorry but you cannot-"

"I did _not_ make this complaint."

Out of nowhere, Mick Foley came jogging in front of the crowd. "Wait, wait, wait! What the hell is going on? Are you arresting Triple H?"

"We have to go downtown. This'll just be an investigation."

Next, four or five voices all chimed in at once and neither Stephanie nor Hunter could keep up. Not that it mattered. The outcome was clear: Hunter was going to a police station, regardless of what either of them had to say about it.

"What about Stephanie? Is she going with him? What about her?" Commissioner Foley asked, pointing at the panicked brunette.

Hunter rolled his eyes and continued walking towards the squad car.

"Sir, step back. Step back, sir," the officer instructed, pushing Foley back a little bit.

"I can come in a _separate _car," Stephanie answered sarcastically.

"This is unbelievable," Hunter commented.

"Can you believe this Mick?" Stephanie asked.

"Have a seat in the back of the vehicle, Mr. Helmsley."

"Mick, I had nothing to do with this! I can't believe that…ugh!" She groaned as yet another person prevented her from following along.

"Mr. Helmsley, have a seat in the back of the vehicle."

"Officer, how can you keep me back from my husband?"

"Steph, what are we gonna do about our main event? What about our main event?" Foley wondered aloud.

Stephanie waved him off. Fuck if she knew. Or cared. She had more important things to worry about. "Mick that's your problem, I'm - I've gotta go down to the police station."

Foley piped up considerably. "We'll make it a one on one match up! Eddie Guerrero versus Kurt Angle."

"Great," she agreed with obvious disinterest. "Great for you!"

"Wait but Eddie's gonna have Chyna in his corner and Kurt can't just go out there – no, no. "

Stephanie shook her head to oppose the idea that she could so clearly see forming in Foley's twisted mind.

"Kurt's not going to go alone!"

"MICK!" She protested.

"_You're _going to be in his corner!"

"MICK!" She tried again, gesturing at the departing squad car frantically.

"You're going to be in his corner, because Kurt needs you!"

"MICK, NO! HUNTERRRRRRR," she practically wailed.

* * *

"NO!" Hunter seethed for what felt like the thousandth time. "I did not hit my wife! Do you people in North Carolina not understand English? Do I need a Southern drawl or somethin'?" He asked rudely.

"So you say you haven't hit the Missus. Complaint we got says otherwise. You've been hootin' and hollerin' this whole time, so I'm inclined to believe the complaint, Mr. Helmsley."

"Oh, this is ridiculous! When my wife gets here she'll straighten this out for you people."

"Funny thing that she hasn't made it down yet, huh, Sims?"

Sims, a man of average height and an obviously multiethnic background, nodded. "Sure is, Jenkins. How far was that arena? About five minutes away?"

Jenkins nodded, one side of his mouth turning up in a satisfied grin. "Sure was. Been about – what – thirty since we picked up Tough Guy here?"

"Hmm. Seems to me that the wife doesn't care too much about you going free."

"This is crap!" Hunter pointed at Jenkins, the one who'd all but made him come in to this hellhole. "You said I wasn't under arrest!"

"You're not…yet. If you help us, we can help you. If you toy with us, we will make your world hell, for the foreseeable future."

Help them? With what? Unless they'd actually dragged him down here for something else entirely, he didn't see how he could be of assistance. He hadn't done what they seemed to be convinced he had. His input on a situation that just plain didn't happen, was extremely limited. The only thing that was going to get him out of this was Stephanie's statement.

He drew his bottom lip in, chewing on it briefly. Where _was _Stephanie anyway? He'd be pissed off about her not being here yet…if one of the possible reasons why wasn't so devastating. These cops were assholes, but they did have a valid point. She definitely should have made it here by now. Either something – he failed to imagine what – was holding her up or she wasn't coming. Honestly, a not so little part of him ached at the second scenario.

Maybe after he'd been hauled off by the cops, she realized she was better off without him. They hadn't even made it to one year of marriage and were already fighting like cats and dogs, at times. Her family had no love lost for him; at best they _tolerated _their union. And then there was that little fucking prick, Kurt Angle. With his gold medals, three I's and ability to naturally connect with Stephanie in a way that Hunter had to constantly actively work at.

Well, he could be more sensitive. Really, he could. He wouldn't resort to blubbering like a baby, as Mr. Olympian did. But he could do better if Steph just gave him another chance. He meant everything he said in the locker room. The yelling and throwing things was disrespectful and he didn't intend to do it again. He hoped that she truly believed he was going to try…and that that belief caused her to want to get him the hell out of this mess.

"Now, I didn't see any visible marks on Mrs. Helmsley," Jenkins began, cutting into Hunter's train of thought. "Have you stopped beating her?"

Hunter felt himself turn red in the face. Why were these morons refusing to accept that he was not at all abusive? Okay, _maybe _with the yelling, one could make an argument for emotional abuse. Maybe. But he never put her down, insulted her or anything like that. Most of the yelling occurred because of simple jealousy and had very little to do with Stephanie as a person. "NO!"

Jenkins leaned back in his chair; eyebrows raised so high that Hunter felt they may disappear into his hairline. "No, you haven't stopped beating her? Well I think we just got ourselves a confession."

Hunter's eyebrows drew together in confusion. "What? No! That's not what I meant! I didn't mean that I haven't stopped beating her!"

"So…you admit a _history _of past abuse?"

"No!"

"Well, make up your mind, Mr. Helmsley. You can't have it both ways, now."

Hunter placed his elbows on the table and raked his hands through his blonde hair. He was so agitated that he didn't have words for it. "OH MY GOD! I do not currently nor have I ever abused my wife."

Neither man present seemed satisfied with that answer. But before either of them could voice their disapproval, another cop poked his head into the room and gestured for them. Jenkins pushed up from his chair, meeting Sims by the door before they both disappeared through it.

Forget this. He hadn't been arrested or charged with anything. He'd already given his statement at least a dozen times. At this point they were just trying to trick him into confessing falsely. Probably just wanted to be able to say they collared a celebrity or something. Well, he was most certainly not about to take the fall for this nonsense. He had no car, phone or wallet, so he wasn't exactly sure how he'd be getting back to the arena or hotel. But he damn well wasn't staying here one minute longer than was necessary. He'd hitchhike if need be.

He exited the interrogation room, ignoring the half-snarls thrown in his direction by various members of this station. What; had the people who brought him in spread the bullshit word that he was a wife beater? Whatever. All the more reason for him to hit the road.

He made it to the front of the station and immediately spotted none other than Stephanie being helped to a seat by Jenkins and Sims. Her head was down and she was holding her neck. Hunter had no idea why; she'd been fine when they'd been split up and hadn't been booked in a match tonight.

Almost as if they sensed his presence, Jenkins and Sims looked up with hateful glares.

Stephanie limping.

Stephanie holding her neck like it was sore or something.

Stephanie lifting her head and him immediately being able to see markings, as well as evident discomfort all over her features.

"Shit," he whispered, already knowing how incriminating this looked.

"Handcuff him!"

Stephanie turned her head just in time to see two officers materialize out of nowhere and attempt to apprehend Hunter. He struggled against the restraints and kept his eyes on Stephanie. "Steph, what happened? Are you okay?"

"Foley made me accompany Kurt to the ring. Chyna and I got into an argument and she DDT'd me. When the world stopped spinning, I came right over." She paused and directed her attention to Jenkins. "I don't know who made the complaint, all right? But it wasn't me. We argue, sure, but he's never laid a hand on me. Physically, I feel like complete shit and you all just heard why. So if you don't let my husband go _this instant, _I swear I will file a lawsuit so big it'll shut this entire station down!"

Jenkins made some sort of police code gesture that had the cuffs snapping off of Hunter's wrists in mere seconds. "Mr. Helmsley…we ah, do apologize for this inconvenience."

"Fuck off!"

"Hunter!" Stephanie scolded. God, she literally _just _got the man released and he was already about to get himself in more trouble. "Can we just go? Please?" She asked…or demanded, depending on the perspective.

He shot a childish glare at Jenkins, Sims, anybody who had a hand in this spectacle. But he walked over to where Stephanie was sitting and planted a hand on her arm to help her up. He supported some of her weight as she gingerly got to her feet and leaned into him.

Feeling how weak she was at the moment, his hazel eyes probed her blue ones intensely. His free hand cupped her cheek and for that moment, they both forgot about their surroundings. "Maybe I should take you to the hospital."

Stephanie closed her eyes and shook her head just once, slowly, so as not to aggravate her injuries. "An ice pack, pain meds and a massage from you will do just fine."

"If none of that helps, I'll make you go to the hospital. You're not strong enough to stop me, so don't even try it."

Stephanie gestured to the group of officers who were still hovering a few feet away, watching them as if this was a television show "Babe," she started. "Be careful; some might consider that a potentially abusive statement."

Hunter narrowed his eyes at her, but the corners of his mouth twitched from amusement. "Is that so?"

"Just saying!" She practically hummed in reply. "There's really only one situation that I enjoy seeing you in handcuffs for."

With his lips slightly parted, Hunter simply blinked at her. "You..." he began and trailed off with a slow shake of his head. Next, he started grinning at her like an idiot. "I-I really don't know what to do with you sometimes," he admitted and began to lead them out of the station.


End file.
